St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1887-12-08


house keeper. Then came Squire Gill,
the old lawyer, who piled cent upon
cent wrung out of his poor clients, and
lent out that accumulation at usury,
till he counted his thousands as his
fellow townsmen did their tens, and
who lived, like fat spider i'm his den,
in one corner of his big Old-fashiOned
house, on the cOmmOnest and cOarsest
food, wearing the shabbiest clothes, a
hat that had been his fathers before
him, and rough brogans, for which he
haggled with John BraddOck once a
year, and always got the better of that
exasperated little man. He had a front
door that was made in two parts hori-
zOntally separated. Over the we'll
bolted lower half he interviewed peo-
pie whom he did not wish to admit
within. He opened the upper part but
crack in answer to Florinda's knock,
and met her request with square re-
fusal.
"No;I won't give We a red cent.
Them folks ought not to be paupers.
was poor boy, and I've got good
living by hard work ; let 'em SO do L
sha'n't spend my money pampering of
'em up. / don't waste it on high Twin
for myself, Thanksgiving day or any
other day. Pork m cabbage is plenty
good for 'em; too good. Mornin'!"
And he shut the door with bang.
The squeak of the bolt made FlOrinda's
heart ache.
But she had better success after that;
one farmer promised her turkey so
did another; prosperous widow who
had passion for poultry, and lived
near Scott pond, put her name down
for two pair of ducks and at several
other places she got one chicken or a
pair, as the case might be +; at the min
ister's house she was offered big ham,
for the minister's wife had a brother at
the West in the pork packing business,
and his annual gift of a barrel of hams
had just arrived ; even poor minister
and his wife cannot eat more than
certain amount of salt and smoked pig,
so that Florinda accepted the gift with
out conjunction. Vegetables the poor
farm would supply; this Uncle Sim
had volunteered.
Both he and Aunt Polly had been
delighted with Florinda's scheme.
.I've wished an wished" declared
the kindly old woman, "that | could
set out Thanksgivin' dinner for our
folks every year; but we couldn't see
the way clear to do it nOhOw. | done
my best by 'em with the puddin' and
the skOshes but me and father figured
ont quite spell, and couldn't make
it gee. Pm as obleeged to We, FlOrin-
dy, as though you'd "a done it for me,
and mabbe more so. Father says you
no need to fetch no turnips, nor p'ta-
ters, nor beets, nor yet no skOshes for
the pies we've got all % them, and
they'd ha' had 'em anyway. | wish l
could give We the milk, but we're al
ways behind with our regular trade
folks for milk THANKSGIVING, and have
to buy SOS to make out"
The last place to which FlOrinda
went with her book was the widow
Dennis's.
"Mother DEAR" she said, with warm
embrace-for two long years Florry
had called her "mOther" when they
were alOne-'I want you to give us
some of your pie apples. Sim has sold
all there were to spare from his winter
supply for the farm people, and l must
have some apple-sauce for my ducks
and some fresh apple pie"
''YOu shall have barrel, dear will
that dOq"
"Oh, more than do"
The widow stepped up to the high
mahogany bureau with brass handles
that stood in the "keepin'- rOOm," un-
locked and opened the square drawer
IN the middle that was thanked on each
side by two narrow ones, and taking
ont a little box, turned back to FlOrin-
da. Her voice trembled and broke as
she said:
"Here is IL mite to help get other
things. I've saved up little at a
time, looking to get him" (she could
not speak her boys name) ga chan for
his fathers watch. | stopped laying
by when-when the letters stopped.
l thought 1 should give it to missions
or somethin', but--he'd like yOu to
have it, FlOrry."
The girl put her arms softly about
the bereaved mother; her tears fell
fast OH that weary breast, but in the
mothers eyes they only gathered and
stood, burning the aching eyeballs, as
the tears of age and agony do burn.
Not one scalding> drop left its source or
sparkled on Florinda's sunny head.
That box held another five dollars,
so FlOrinda's purse was Over-full for
her needs.
The Monday before Thanksgiving
indeed all that week-was ii busy one
for Florinda and Dency Mills, the
faithful old servant, who had come
with the doctors young wife when she
was married.
Just as Dency took out the pudding
that Wednesday night there was a sort
of cutlery in the yard-a sound of run
ming feet, that inexpressible general
confusion that the ear cannot resolve
into it's details, but which carries it's
tale of dismay, of terror, without
words.
She was not to be moved from her
pudding, however. She carried it with
the justest care and equilibrium into
the further pantry, and set on the
shelf. 1t was time for her to go home,
but she must know what all this fuss
meant first. Before she could tie or
her hood, however, Aunt Polly hastily
opened the kitchen door, her whole as
pect disturbed, and her placid face red
as the moon just rising now above the
Bolton Hills.
"Oh, say, Dency, there's the awful
est job Be you a-gOin' hOme3 Well,
send the doctor over here a-fyin'.
There's Teller thrOwed off his horse
jest nigh about the yard gate, and is
took up for dead. They've fetched |
him upstairs to the spare chamber, but
they want DR.. Allen right Off"
Dency made good speed hOmeward,
and found the doctor had just come in;
so he turned back from the steps to |
his Stacking buggy, and was soon at
his patients side.
Aunt Polly's tale was all true, but
Lame Jim was innOcently ut the bot
tOm of the disaster. He had found a